Page 40 of I Met Him At The Library

I hoped we could get enough authors to show up. We brought down the price of our tables significantly in comparison to the costs of them at other events, in hopes to attract a few of our authors. Additionally, the size of this event will likely not reach what more popular or well established events would. Of course all of the money would be put toward the funding we needed for the library after the cost of renting them. If we managed to get twenty-five authors we could fill the entire walkway of the park. If we got more, we’d set them along the outside of the park.

We finished up goals and Meghan put together her own list of authors she had personally worked with in hopes to convince a few to come out to the event. At the very least, she hoped we would raise more awareness. We even set up a donation page authors could add to their own links.

I pushed the idea of going public from my brain. I wasn’t ready to take the next step. It was more important for me to enjoy this part of my life. The part where I was successful with what I did in secret. I was an alien smut author, I’d never be famous, but even a small amount of popularity scared me. I was staying in my comfort zone.

Chapter 23

Ryan

Why was it that I sat down with Emily all day yesterday going over authors without nerves getting in the way, but tonight she was coming over to my house for our first official date and my stomach was flipping with them? I made Tuscan Chicken served over fettuccine noodles with fresh baked Italian bread and it looked fantastic, some of my best work yet. Still, my stomach flipped knowing Emily would be arriving soon.

Spinning around in my kitchen, I mentally checked off everything. Candles were lit and on the already set table, bread was warming in the oven, the wine was chilled and breathing on the counter. Everything was how it should be.

It was different since we put a label on this thing. We were dating, quietly, but still dating. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my nerves. She would be here any minute, and I didn’t want to be a nervous wreck. However, as soon as the doorbell rang, the churning in my gut returned.

Play it cool, I told myself repeatedly as I walked to my front door.

Upon opening the door, I did not, in fact, play it cool. No, my jaw dropped open, and I stared at her for what was probably an uncomfortably long time. Her hair was down and curled. Her eyes were slightly smoky highlighting the golds and greens in them. My eyes traveled down her body over the charcoal gray linen dress, with a green turtle neck under it. Black tights covered her legs, and she wore knee-high black boots with the outfit. It was sweet and incredibly sexy at the same time.

“Hey,” she whispered and my eyes climbed up her body to her face.

“Hey,” I whispered back and blinked when my momentary awe over her faded and she was still waiting outside, “Oh, come in, come in.” I gestured for her to come in, stepping out of the doorway.

She laughed softly as she entered, and the soft fruity scent of her drifted to my nose. Placing her small black purse on the entryway table, she scanned the open layout of my downstairs. My decor was minimalist with charcoal gray furniture and black tables. Her mere presence in the room brightened it.

“It smells delicious,” she said, turning back to me after I closed the front door.

“Thanks, I hope you like Tuscan chicken and fettuccine.” I had been enjoying the garlic, herb, and tomato smell filling my townhome, I was glad she enjoyed the fragrance as well.

“You can never go wrong with a good chicken pasta dish,” she responded with her sweet smile.

“Wine?” I offered as she followed me to the kitchen.

“Sure,” she nodded with a smile and I poured two glasses of Sauvignon Blanc before handing her one.

“Dinner will be a moment longer, please take a seat.” I gestured to the table and her eyes sparkled as she took it in.

“You lit candles and everything?” She stepped toward the table and took a seat at one of the place settings.

“To be honest, I’ve never cooked for anyone that wasn’t family before,” I admitted.

She stared at me with widened eyes and asked, “Why not?”

“Well, in the city it was easier to take someone to a restaurant, and there wasn’t anyone worth making an effort for. Now there is.”

“Also, there are no romantic restaurants in town.” She pointed out with a grin.

“Sadie will be devastated to hear that you don’t think The Blue Plate is romantic.”

“Believe me, Sadie already knows,” Emily huffed in a laugh before she took a sip of her wine.

As we ate dinner, we talked some about the book con. She presented a list of name ideas and we discussed them - getting in a few laughs when she presented some not so serious options her and Meghan brainstormed for fun. We put our work aside shortly after. We could finalize all of it on Monday when we started sending emails.

We talked a bit about our childhoods, she told me stories about what she and her friends would get into. She told me about her parents who traveled around in an RV and explained how they rented out their house as a vacation rental to help pay for their retirement travels. Her eyes lit up when she talked about how supportive they were with her writing career. They wanted to brag about their successful author daughter, but agreed not to when Emily detailed the type of content in her books to them.

I had told her about how my mom was super supportive, but my dad was absent. Even when he and my mom were still married, he wasn’t present. He was an alcoholic, and he struggled with it. My mom got pregnant nine years after I was born, which was when everything changed.

My mom kicked my dad out, claiming she wasn’t going to raise two children and him too. To this day, she didn’t know I had overheard their fight. My dad moved out, and afterward he wasn’t physically in our lives anymore - even if mentally he hadn’t been for most of the decade before that.

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